No, I need answers. It's not about just my survival anymore; it's about the dragon. Something was off; something was wrong. The Outerlands needs to be ready, Bren needs to be ready. If I'm getting out of here in a few weeks, then I'm not only taking the journals but answers too.
So I offer her somethingback, just to keep the conversation balanced, just enough to keep her talking. Simple safe stuff, like Bren. The dragon’s eye. Nothing that links back to the bigger picture. I keep Merrin, the journals, the truce, quiet. Those are mine.
She doesn’t press. Doesn’t ask follow-ups. Just takes it in like it’s not unusual at all. And then she gives me something Iwascurious about.
Talen.
Information I might be able to use, just enough to step near the edge of his trap. Just enough to let the Nightrose notice me. Take the bait. That’s how the jaws close. That’s how I get the answers I need.
Turns out the reason he was staring at her in the courtyard during the Initiation Brief on my first day is that their families have apparently been trying to arrange a marriage for years.
“They’ve been at it since we were kids. Political nonsense, house alliances, treaties, blah, blah, blah.”
I mean—he’s perfect for her, controlled, strategic, unshakable. Bitch face to match. But still…
“You’dmarryTalen?” I question, eyebrows raised, biting back a feeling that definitelyisn'tjealousy.
“If it helps keep the borders stable and keeps my parents happy? Sure. I could do worse.”
“But he killed a cadet... On the Demonstration floor. Snapped his neck like it meant nothing.”
“The boy was already gone.” She shrugs. “Spine shattered. Bleeding out. No healer could’ve reached him in time, he was in pain.”
“You say that like mercy justifies it.”
“I say it because it’s the truth.” Another String. “Talen didn’t enjoy it. He just did what needed to be done.” She pauses. “That’s the problem with him, he’s always the one willing to do what no one else will. Anyway,” a quick smirk, “he’s not even my typephysically. I’d much rather book out Lucien for a night, if you know what I mean.”
Yeah, I can definitely picture the two of them going at it… and immediately wish I couldn’t. I shake my head, banishing the image and find something else to talk about quick.
By the end of class, something’s shifted. Beth still unsettles me. She’s blunt, unreadable, and I’d be a fool to think she suddenly wants to make friendship bracelets and whisper secrets.
But, I think I get her now. And worse, she might get me, too. Not just in the surface-level way—but in that quiet, uncomfortable way where someone sees your mess and doesn’t flinch.
And that’s dangerous.
Because when I sat down across from her, I was ready to use her. She had information, and I was willing to trade civility for it.Still am. I need answers more than I need allies. But I wasn’t ready for the rest of it, the honesty, the strange, brutal comfort of trading truths with someone who doesn’t pretend they’re fine.
I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what she wants from me, or if I’ll ever trust her enough to give her anything real.
But whatever it is, I need to keep it alive. She’s useful. What she said about Talen, I don’t know what to do with that yet. But it’s something.
Plus, she still scares the shit out of me. If she ever decides to tell anyone I ran, I’m screwed.So fornow, I’ll keep playing. Keep her close. Keep her talking.
Better a blade at my side than at my throat.
At lunch,I finally catch up with Finn and Rowan in the food hall, lining up to get our daily dose of stale bread and bland broth. Ezzy stayed behind with Holloway, something about extra-curricular Thread credits or something.
I’d be glad to see her, honestly. But I’m also relieved I don’t have to, not yet, at least. Because she wants to talk, and I’m still figuring out which pieces of the truth I can let her see… and now, thanks to Holloway’s lesson, which ones I need to bury so deep even I forget they ever existed.
Plus with my Threads this pissed off, buzzing just under my skin like they’re itching for a fight, I’m not sure I could lie to her anyway. But finally I’m with Finn. I just need him to make me a new duck, fast, before the magic inside me breaks past the seal and tears something loose.
Finn’s tray lands on the table with a loud bash, broth sloshing on to Rowan as he drops into the seat beside us. My mouth opens, ready to ask about the duck, but I don’t get a word out before he launches into a full-blown interrogation. Rowan must’ve told him I came face to face with the dragon, because Finn’s already firing off questions like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he stops talking.
How close I got. How big it was. Did it breathe fire? Did it blow anything up?
“The only dragons I’ve ever seen are Rowan’s stupid little models,” he says, barely pausing for second, “so I need you to describe everything.”
He’s halfway through asking about the teeth when Rowan finally looks up, jaw clenched. Something charged passes between them and suddenly they’re at each other’s throats.
